the shadow-creature as it lurched and flapped in the air.
   'Negative-power!' shouted Reblax. 'Otherwise you'll give it all the energy it needs!'
   Kasyx lifted his left hand to acknowledge that he had understood. Then thousands of 
volts of negative psychic energy spat from his fingertips, and hit the shadow-creature as 
it tried to fly. This was Oromas I's revenge; his last blow against the fear of death.
   There was a sharp implosion, blacker and darker and denser than anything that Reblax 
had ever seen. The shadow-creature was sucked into it, and compressed into a single black 
atom.
   There was a soft thudding of thunder as it disappeared, as the air rushed in to fill 
the space that it had left.
   Dianne was left on the roof, apparently alone. 'John?' she called. 'John?'
   She went across to the fallen staff: dull now, nothing but olive wood. She picked it 
up and held it in both hands.
   Thank you,' she whispered to the dark night sky. 'Thank you, whoever you are.'
   She felt something brush her lips, almost like a kiss. Yet when she put her hand out, 
there didn't seem to be anybody there.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    Eighteen
   
   
   
   They were sitting under the cedar tree when John was wheeled out to join them. They 
greeted him with whistles and loud applause, and Toussaint struck a chord on his guitar. 
Sister Clare made sure that the plaid blanket was tucked tight around his legs, and then 
she pushed him close to his friends.
   'Don't be overexciting yourself,' she warned him. 'You know what Dr. Freytag said.'
   'It's all right, Sister Clare,' John said, smiling. 'I'm hardly likely to excite 
myself with this gang of paralyzed bores.'
   'Now, then,' said Billy, 'Just because you can wave your arms around now, and just 
because you're going to be able to walk in a year or two, that's no call to get 
prejudiced. Just remember, you were a cripple once.'
   'I'll never forget it, either,' said John. 'And don't you ever call yourself a 
cripple, not in my earshot, anyway.'
   'How's Lenny?' asked Che-u.
   'You'll be seeing him soon. Dianne's supposed to be bringing him over. But he's fine. 
Dianne told me that he baked some cookies for you guys, baked them at school.'
   'Just hope they're chocolate-chip,' said Mean Dean, his cigarette waggling between his 
lips. 'I don't eat any other kind but chocolate-chip.'
   'Are you going to refuse them if they're not?' Toussaint asked. 'Refuse them? I'm 
going to grind them underfoot!' He looked down at the neatly folded blanket where his 
legs were supposed to be, and laughed. 'I'm going to find it hard to forget that I was 
Themesteroth, believe me.'
   John said, 'You're always going to be Themesteroth, as long as you live.' He looked 
around at all of them, and added, 'You're always going to be Night Warriors. And it 
doesn't matter who looks down at you - or who ignores you even when you're sitting right 
in front of them - or who treats you like a child or a moron or an idiot. You're Night 
Warriors; your legs and your arms are inside your dreams, and nobody can take that away 
from you.'
   Just then Dianne appeared with Lenny. Her hair was brushed and shining, and she was 
wearing a new white summer dress that John hadn't seen before. Lenny ran over to John and 
hugged him tight; and then Dianne came over and gave him a kiss that had the rest of the 
Night Warriors whistling and wolf-howling.
   'I talked to Dr. Freytag,' said Dianne. 'He says you're going to make an eighty-five 
per cent recovery, maybe better. Oh, John, I'm so pleased.'
   He stiffly raised one arm and touched her cheek. It was the first time he had been 
able to touch her since they'd met. She pressed his hand against her cheek, and her eyes 
filled with sparkling tears.
   Dean said to Lenny, 'Hey, champ, how about those cookies?'
   'Oh, sure,' said Lenny, and produced a large brown paper sack. 'There are ten cookies 
each, and each bag has your name on it.'
   He delved inside the brown paper sack and took out smaller bags of cookies, which he 
handed around one by one. On each bag was written in large childish writing Thank You 
From Your Friend Lenny.' Dean carefully opened his bag and peered inside.
   Lenny said anxiously. 'They're chocolate-chip. I only know how to make chocolate-chip.'
   Dean nodded, and took out one of the cookies, and bit into it. They all waited until 
he had swallowed his first mouthful.
   'You know something?' he said This is the best goddamned chocolate-chip cookie I ever 
tasted in my whole goddamned life.'
   Lenny came up to him and grinned, his face bright. 'You mean that?'
   'You calling me a liar?' Dean retorted. 'I'll arm-wrestle you for that.'
   As they scrapped and wrestled, John turned to Dianne and said, 'I want to thank you, 
too. We never could have made it without you.'
   'Any other psychic researcher would have done the same.'
   T want you to send my thanks to Seth Maxwell, too, and everybody else at the 
university.'
   Dianne smiled. 'I'll tell Seth tonight. He's taking me out to dinner.'
   'Oh?' John queried sharply.
   She laughed. 'It's not what you think. He's found out some more about Nathan Grant. 
Some old Osage legend.'
   'Really?'
   'Don't sound so skeptical. Just because Seth has a thing about my legs.'
   'So what's this legend?'
   'It's interesting; and from what we already know about Nathan Grant, it seems to fit 
the historical facts. According to the Osage Indians, they were approached by a white 
horse-doctor called Grant who was dying of some kind of wasting disease, muscular 
dystrophy probably. Grant made a deal with an Osage medicine man. In return for being 
cured, Grant would allow his daughters to be impregnated by an evil spirit, and he would 
carry these embryonic evil spirits deep into the heart of the white man's government so 
that white men would always argue with each other, and never be able to form a united 
nation that would threaten the Indians' heritage.'